To say that Alan was not a morning person, was like saying that cats did not like water. He rolled over in his bed, slapping futilely at his cellphone. Alarms, he thought, were one of the few things not made better by touch technology. Long ago he could have happily bitch slapped the offending device off its perch, broken it, and gone back to sleep.

Instead, Alan flopped out of bed, groggily groped for his phone, and was forced to complete a set of math questions to make the hellish noise stop.

He blinked blearily at the time, which read 8:03 am, and began sluggishly pulling clothes out of the pile on the ground he had mentally marked as ‘clean enough’. It was going to be time to do the laundry soon, but dreaded it much like he dreaded doing any chore. He knew inevitably that the minute he came down the stairs with a basket of laundry to do, Jane’s laundry would find its way into his workload. And as anyone who has ever had a sister can contest, finding a bunch of frilly underwear in the laundry is not altogether too arousing. It is primarily just an annoyance. He hadn’t known until recently for instance, that bras couldn’t go in the dryer. They had to be hung.

Little things like that were why Alan - someone who was slightly more conscientious than others about his social interactions, was far less well kept than his personality would otherwise prefer.

A quick shower, and a hastily purchased breakfast taquito at the nearby convenience store found him well on his way to Dan’s house. Dan lived in a much nicer area of town than Alan did, owning his own condo, and therefore having luxuries like security guards in the lobby available to him. This also meant that Alan - who lived on almost the exact opposite end of the city from him - had to spend the better part of forty minutes in transit to reach him, and was completely blindsided by the flurry of emergency service personnel and vehicles situated outside the building when he arrived.

Instinctively his posture shifted to send a message of innocence to anyone bother to look at him, and he began picking his way through the groups of people. He could still see some of the other residents going in and out of the building, so he assumed the way forward wasn’t blocked, but he was beginning to get a sinking feeling in his gut that he he should just call Dan to apologize and go home.

Unfortunately, Alan had previous few friends he trusted, especially so far from his hometown. And Dan, big stupidly charismatic, Dan, was one of them.

He stopped a nearby police officer to ask if visitors were allowed, and upon receiving confirmation that he could go in, he trudged into the entryway, and punched the buzzer code for Dan’s apartment. It rang twice before a familiar voice answered the call.

“Yo. What’s good?” Dan said in a tinny voice through the speaker.

“It’s me. Can I come up or what?” Alan said, genuinely unsure if he wanted to be in the building at that exact moment for any longer than was strictly necessary.

Instead of an answer, the call ended, and the lock on the front door to the building clicked open. With one last look around he went through the door and up the lobby elevator to Dan’s condo on the 11th floor.

When he arrived, he found the door to the condo unlocked, and obligingly, stepped inside to find Dan hastily throwing clothing into a large duffel bag. He had no idea what Dan did for a living, but not for the first time he marveled that someone so affluent showed up to play M&M with them on the weekends.

“Did you forget to pack or something?” Alan asked bemused by the fervor Dan was showing. He’d never really seen the man panic before. The sight of his unflappable friend jogging around the living room trying to find a shoe was somehow just too funny.

“Sort of. Told you yesterday right? It was kind of an emergency. Uh, speaking of which.” Dan slowed his movements, sitting down on the expensive looking couch he never bothered to take care of and brushing some crumbs onto the floor. Alan immediately noted the change in Dan’s tone from casual to serious, and took a seat opposite him.

“So… how long have you had it?” Dan asked finally, eyeing Alan up and down like he was examining a new brand of beer. Alan blinked once, confused by the question.

“I’ll be straight with you Dan. I have - no idea - what the fuck you’re talking about.” Alan supposed he could have played along for a while, and mistakenly assumed his friend was referencing an article of clothing, or a fictional medical condition, but the man was clearly in a rush. In response Dan rolled his eyes, and his muscles tensed slightly. He gave the impression of a coiling serpent, waiting to strike. He broadcasted to Alan, that he was about to attack him.

“I guess if were doing origin story shit, I’ll go first.” Dan said, his friendly cheerful voice completely at odds with his body language. He even managed to faintly sneer while doing it. It was so uncanny that Alan couldn’t think through all the implications a that moment, and simply tensed up himself, preparing to leap out of the way and run for the elevator or the stairs.

“See, when I was doing a job in Cairo I got this really bad head wound and - “

“Cairo?” Alan interrupted, his curiosity getting the better of him. Dan waved his hand in the air, indicating for him to simmer down, before continuing, without answering the question.

“So there was this head wound. I ended up in the hospital for like, a month. They thought I was fucked. But when I woke up, suddenly I was seeing things right?” Dan said, his posture morphing from the moment before an attack, to relaxed, to coiled danger again so fast that Alan could only act reflexively, jerking sideways before realizing nothing was happening.

“Little crap like body language and micro expressions. It was like those people you hear about who go to sleep one night and wake up speaking the wrong language.”

Alan froze at those words. He had tried in the past to explain to people who he saw the world, and found that it rarely went well. Most people took the inability to hide a stray thought from you as extremely invasive - even if you weren’t doing it on purpose.

“And I’m guessing you can do it too, cus I’m just sitting here talking but your over there spazzing out.” Dan finished. Suddenly, the fact that what Dan said, and what his body said, always lined up, didn’t seem so weird to Alan. It wasn’t that he was stupidly honest. He was just so good at controlling those microscopic expressions of intent that Alan couldn’t tell the difference.

It was actually kind of annoying how easily he’d been deceived. Recentering himself, Alan tentatively let his facade slip, allowing himself to sink into the plush couch he’d so often played video games on in the past.

“Okay. So… what’s that got to do with all this?” Alan asked carefully.

“Everything my man! Look without getting too into the details - your boy here is actually kind of a big deal in the spy game.” Dan said flexing for dramatic effect.

“...I’m leaving.” Alan bit out. Normal interaction was tiring. Dan was particularly tiring. And this? This was down right exhausting.

“Yeah I thought you’d say that.” Dan said apologetically before walking across the living room to an artfully decorated wine rack Alan never saw Dan actually use. With practiced ease his friend pulled two bottles of some no name brand out of their recesses, and moved them to two different areas of the rack.

At first, nothing happened, but then there was a faint click, and the entire thing spun away to reveal a wall of pegboard positively covered in firearms and a host of other incomprehensible items Alan couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“Bond. James Bond.” Dan said in a mocking approximation of the scottish actor who had once played the iconic part.

Alan quickly thought of all the police downstairs and felt himself blanch.

“Dan” he said carefully edging towards the front door. “Did you kill someone?”

“What? No! I came here to retire, you ass. There isn’t even anyone worth assassinating in this place.” Dan complained. Alan ignored the implication that Dan had in fact killed someone before, carefully it filing away into a mental vault he would open at a later date to freak out over. Dan’s posture and tone told Alan he was telling the truth, but in light of recent revelations, he wasn’t actually sure he trusted what he was seeing.

Obviously following Alan’s train of thought Dan rolled his eyes and beckoned Alan back to the couch. Typically, Alan would have left anyway - but Dan, who he realized he didn’t really know all that well at all, was still standing next to an absolutely stupendous number of guns. And Alan was keenly aware of another commonly used phrase in spy movies;

‘I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.’

Like a startled animal, Alan slowly returned to the couch, lowering himself into it.

“Let me just put all my cards on the table okay?” Dan said carefully, his eyes flicking between Alan and the door as though calculating the distance.

“I really do need you to watch my place. As you can see, it’s full of some stuff I’d really rather not be found by anyone I don’t trust.

“But I also called you for another reason. See, I need to train a… call it a replacement. Just in case something happens to me and all. I’ve never met someone who’s as good at the body language thing as me until I found you so…” Dan paused to think, which gave Alan time to process the situation.

Then realization dawned on him. He hadn’t actually met Dan for the first time at their weekly game. It had actually been shortly before that - when he was checking out the local hobby shops. They had met at the cash register and gotten into a good old canadian standoff, each of them offering the other first use of the register to cash out. It wasn’t until afterwards that Alan had starting coming across Dan regularly enough to befriend him.

“Wait, did you follow me to our M&M game?” he asked incredulously

“That? Sorta. Remember we did meet at the shop. Spys have hobbies too man. But just between you and me? I’m usually the bard.” Dan admitted freely. Then he shrugged.

“Look I gotta go, but here’s the deal - watch my place for a week. Sleep here if you want. When I get back, tell me if you want me the job or not. If not then… no hard feelings alright? I swear.”

Alan stared stupefied at his friend. On the one hand, James Bond got to look cool, dress well, and get laid all the time. On the other hand, James Bond got shot at. Alot.

And Alan wasn’t sure he wanted to trust stormtrooper aim to keep his ass out of the dirt.

“I’ll… think about it?” he said, fully intending to say no when Dan came back.

“Great! You know where cat food is right? Top shelf?” his friend said, returning to his usual, stupidly cheerful self as though the entire conversation was just one big joke. He casually kicked the side of the gun rack, and it disappeared back into the wall. Alan tried to make a point of not remembering how to move the bottles to bring it back. He had no intention of using it.

“Yeah…” Alan said, somewhat put off by how fast the conversation was going.

“Cool. I gotta jet but I’ll see you in a week bro.” Dan said, already sliding into his shoes and hoisting his duffel bag over one shoulder.

Alan didn’t say anything as Dan threw him the key fob that would open the doors to the condo. He just stared as his friend strode out into the hall, pulled out a pair of aviator glasses, and disappeared behind the closing door.

He stared down at the keys, still not entirely believing the entire thing wasn’t just some very long winded prank on Dan’s part.

With a dejected sigh he rose, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He quickly sent a text to Leah informing her that he’d be missing their next game, and then another to Jane to tell her he’d be staying at a friends house for a while. The text for Leah was common courtesy - when you miss a session of any tabletop your screwing things up for everyone else at your table. But the text for Jane was mostly so she didn’t have an excuse to yell at him for it later. Not that she wouldn’t do that anyway. But he’d done this enough times to be able to cut off the easy arguments before they started.

That done, he stomped over to the fridge and withdrew a beer. If he was going to be here all week, he was going to treat it like a vacation. He’d have to go home for some clothes and his school books at some point. But for now, he was going to sit back, and relax where no one could bother him.